


That One Where Sam Did Porn In College And Dean Finds Out

by IAmSorry__sendmeaprompt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Feels, As In Dean Drinks Whiskey, Brotherly Bonding, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Dean Winchester is Protective of Sam Winchester, Feels, Fluff, Former Porn Star Sam Winchester, Insecure Sam Winchester, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Porn Star Sam Winchester, Porn Watching, Post-Stanford Era (Supernatural), Sam Winchester is Not Okay, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Winchester Coping Mechanisms (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:02:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27750463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmSorry__sendmeaprompt/pseuds/IAmSorry__sendmeaprompt
Summary: The title says it all, really. This was supposed to be a short, fluffy piece but my brain (helped by thanksgiving champagne) was like oh you should make them angst about their brotherly bond!! So yeahThis was not written as wincest but I suppose if you put on your wincest-tinted glasses you might see it?
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Alcohol
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	That One Where Sam Did Porn In College And Dean Finds Out

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing, because if I did, we'd have seen Castiel in the finale. Not to diss the finale, because I think overall it was pretty good.
> 
> I was mildly tipsy when I wrote this, so feel free to blame this clusterfuck on that

They’ve just ganked a succubus, and, as a result, Sam is looking a little bit worse for wear. His hair looks like he just went three rounds with a playboy bunny, and he’s bitten and scratched up to high heaven. He’s practically indecent, and this is coming from Dean.

Dean once walked home in broad daylight naked as the day he was born because his one-night stand had turned out to be a vamp.

So, Dean thinking that Sam looks indecent means that the kid looks pretty fucking obscene. Of course, he’s also splattered in blood from the decapitation of the succubus, so that cuts down on it a little bit.

Dean looks his brother up and down and decides, fuck it, he’s decent enough. Dean is hungry, Dean is going to a diner before they head back to the hotel room, and Sam is coming with him. Kid never eats enough.

So Dean finds himself in a booth in a small-town diner across from his brother, who looks like a porn star with kiss-swollen lips and the whole rest of the mess he’s got going on.

Dean thanks his lucky stars that he’d called paper instead of scissors when they were deciding who was going to play bait for the succubus, because all he’s got wrong with him is a scratch across the ribs and a spray of blood on his jacket, which he’d left in the car.

He’s playing with the salt and pepper packets in their little basket when their waiter, a pimply teenage boy, comes over to the table. “Hello, sirs. May I take your- oh my god!”

Dean looks up rather quickly, because that doesn’t sound like something you want the person in charge of bringing you your food to sound like, and finds the boy staring, open-mouthed, at Sam.

Huh. 

Sam didn’t look _that_ bad, did he?

Apparently he did, because the kid kept staring at him.

“Uh, can I help you?” Sam tried out a nervous smile, and Dean could sense him preparing to use the puppy-dog eyes.

“It’s you. Holy crap, it’s you!” The kid, Shane, his nametag read, was almost vibrating with excitement.

“Okay, Shane,” Dean decided to cut in. “I’ll have a number three, large fries.”

Dean is soundly ignored, as their waiter is still staring at Sam like he thinks the younger Winchester is about to do a trick or something.

“What’s me?” Sam asks, and Dean nearly rolls his eyes. Smart kid like Sam, went off to be college educated and everything, and the best he can come up with is ‘what’s me”? Wow.

“Dude,” Dean says, but is quickly drowned out by Shane.

“You’re Jason Adonis,” Shane says, then falls silent. He’s still bouncing up on the balls of his feet and looking giddy, but he’s being quiet, so Dean counts that as a win. Then he looks over at Sam.

Sam, who’s gone so pale he’s practically translucent, and is looking like he’s quite lost his appetite. “Where did you hear that?” he asks, then “Wait, no. Don’t answer that. Don’t answer any of that.” He takes several steadying breaths, Shane obviously having been hanging onto his every word, and requests a grilled chicken salad.

Dean orders his number three, large fries, again, and Shane brings it, and all is reasonably well. He chows down on his burger, ketchup dripping onto his chin, and moans in the way that always makes Sam glare at him and kick him under the table.

Sam does no such thing. In fact, Sam is picking at his salad, which Dean knows is bad because Sam didn’t eat breakfast because they were staking out the abandoned warehouse the succubus was luring victims to, and it’s gone three in the afternoon by now. Sam’s a big guy, and they’ve both just used up a lot of energy. He should be ravenous.

“You okay there, Sammy?” Dean puts his burger down and reaches across the table to clap Sam’s shoulder.

“Y-yeah. All good.” Sam looks shaken and very much not all good. “Just not very hungry.”

Well, Dean is definitely going to get to the bottom of this, right as soon as he finishes his meal.

“I’m your biggest fan!” Shane whispers excitedly as he passes their booth. Sam looks, if possible, even more miserable.

They end up taking Sam’s salad back to the motel with them in a to-go box, and Dean’s attempts to get to the bottom of his brother’s strange actions are met with zip. Zilch. Nada.

“So,” Dean says as he swings himself out of the driver’s seat and makes for the motel room door. “Who’s Jason Adonis?”

“He’s nobody, Dean,” Sam says, lips pursed as he clutches his salad box for dear life. “He doesn’t exist. Now can you please just forget you ever heard that name?”

Dean wavers for a minute, because he really wants to push the issue, but Sam’s giving him those puppy-dog eyes and looking so pitiful Dean can’t help but give in. Anything but capitulating would’ve felt like kicking a small, starving baby animal at that point. “Yeah, okay.”

That resolution lasts just long enough to see Sam into the shower, and Dean alone in the room. Then he’s pulling out his phone and googling Jason Adonis.

The first result is Pornhub.

The second, XVideos.

By the time Dean has scrolled past results from xhamster and thumbzilla, he’s thoroughly confused. There’s a slow feeling of dread creeping into the back of his mind, but he manfully ignores it and clicks on the Pornhub link.

His first thought is that the video he’s on is showing a whole lot of naked skin.

His second thought is that the position that guy is in and the things being done to him look downright painful.

His third thought is _oh holy fuck that’s Sam._

Ten minutes and a few swallows of Jack later, it’s still Sam. There’s a total of sixteen videos that Dean’s found, and some of them are pretty hardcore. Not that he’s watching all the way through, because he’s not a pervert and that would just seem wrong, but just going on what he’s seen and what the titles are like… Dean might be in shock.

There’s one that’s on every site he clicks on. He nearly flung the phone across the room when he’d first seen the title: Drunk Fratboy Bound And Railed. He’d watched the first ten seconds, barely, and one look at Sam’s face had made him want to retch. His brother was completely out of it, probably drugged. 

Dean was suddenly very angry at whoever had done that to Sam.

He clicked on to the next video (what the fuck is figging, Sam, what did you _do_ ), and just as the intro music started playing, Sam walked out of the bathroom.

Dean froze, unable to even pause the video.

Sam, who had been pulling his shirt over his head, froze with one arm still not quite through the arm hole. “You looked it up, didn’t you,” he says. His voice is flat, defeated.

“Yeah,” Dean admits. “Yeah, I did.” He pauses the video. Then, because this is a very delicate situation, and Dean is totally awesome at being tactful, “Some of these look kinda sketchy though. Did you consent to all of it?”

Sam wriggles the rest of the way into his shirt, then sits down on his bed. “Yes, Dean. I did.”

“Even the one where you look drugged? Because I will hunt those people down and rip their intestines out their throats if they hurt you.” Dean defaults to anger when he’s shocked, he can feel it bleeding through into his voice, and he can see the way Sam shrinks away from it. He just can’t stop it.

“Even that one. Look, I was working with professionals, I had a safeword, I wasn’t drugged, and can we please just fucking drop this?” Sam’s words are a little bit muffled, because he’s got his head in his hands.

Dean cannot just fucking drop this. His baby brother starred in porn. Some of which was _gay_ porn. What the fuck? “How many are there? Jesus, Sam.”

“There’s nineteen,” Sam says. “Are you mad at me?”

Dean’s staring at the phone screen. There’s three he hasn’t found yet. He’s not sure he wants to find them, but God does he ever want to know what they show, what happened to Sam while Dean wasn’t there.

“When? Why?” He sounds sharper than he meant to.

“Stanford. I needed money.” Sam’s voice is small.

Dean takes another swig of Jack. “So you like guys too?” It’s not an important question; he’s more than fine with it if Sam does. He’s just asking to fill the awkward silence settling over the room.

“Yeah,” Sam answers, then, stronger, “Yeah. That gonna be a problem?”

“No,” Dean says, and waves the bottle at him. “Just surprised.”

Sam doesn’t take the bottle. He just sits and stares at Dean, looking young and lost. Fucking hell. “I’m sorry, Dean, I really am, I never meant for you to find out. Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Dean replies, harshly. He makes a conscious effort to soften his voice. “Why didn’t you just tell me you needed money, Sam? I would’ve helped you out. You wouldn’t have had to do that.”

“We weren’t talking,” Sam is looking down at his hands, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “I didn’t know if you’d want to hear from me.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room is heavier than it used to be. Where does Dean even begin to start unraveling that particular ball of issues? He pauses, the words weighing on his tongue. How should he say this? The wrong thing, and Sam will be spooked, he’ll run like a skittish horse. “That was Dad,” he says, carefully, all too aware of the tension riding in Sam’s broad shoulders. “Not me. Who said don’t you ever come back.”

Sam looks up at him, then, and Dean thinks that this really isn’t about the porn anymore, this has gone deeper.

“I ain’t him, Sammy. I’ll always have your back.” He finishes his spiel and eyes his brother carefully. “Just don’t let me catch you playing camboy ever again, you hear me? No way the whole world gets to ogle my baby brother.” He sets the bottle of Jack down then, and a good thing too, because he suddenly and unexpectedly finds himself with an armful of Sam.

“Thank you,” Sam is whispering, where his face is buried in Dean’s shoulder. “Thank you, thank you, God I needed to hear that, thank you…”

“It’s okay,” Dean reassures, as he rubs Sam’s back and silently beats himself up for not noticing how much Sam had needed to hear that earlier. And also for not noticing that his brother had done porn because he hadn’t believed that his family would have his back when he needed it.

He was gonna be a better big brother than he had been so far. He was gonna be the big brother Sam deserved.

***

A few months later, Dean was settled comfortably in at the motel with a nice video of lesbians doing… lesbian things, some tissues, and some lotion. He thoroughly enjoyed the video and was well on his way to a mind-blowing orgasm when the next video popped up on autoplay. 

He caught a glimpse of long, tanned legs and shaggy hair, pink lips stretched around a gag, and “Fuck!”

.

.

.

“Goddamnit, Sammy.”


End file.
